


brad/nate - misunderstanding

by romanticalgirl



Category: Generation Kill
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-14
Updated: 2013-04-14
Packaged: 2017-12-08 11:57:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/761054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/romanticalgirl/pseuds/romanticalgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Originally posted 11-12-09</p>
    </blockquote>





	brad/nate - misunderstanding

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted 11-12-09

“Nate and Dan’s house of sex and debauchery.”

Brad’s silent for a long moment and he shifts slightly, feeling phantom sand grate against his skin.

“Oh, fuck. This isn’t Nate’s mom again, is it? You know I’m kidding, right?” There’s a soft laugh, friendly and familiar. “And I totally didn’t just say fuck. You know, for the record.” The laugh trails off and there’s an awkward silence. “Um…hello?”

“Nate. Fick.” Brad’s voice is gruffer than he means for it to be, but he hasn’t spoken in twenty-two hours, too exhausted from three weeks with less than a day’s worth of sleep caught in 10-15 minute increments. 

“Oh. Nate’s in the shower right now. You want me to tell him you called?”

“No. No. That’s…I’ll call back.” He’s not sure where the hesitancy comes from. It’s not like he and Nate are anything other than grunt and ex-CO. Still, whoever this guy is, he’s making Brad’s stomach clench worse than most of the things he saw in Iraq or Afghanistan ever did. 

“Oh, shit. Dude. Is this Brad? Fuck. Nate said you might call. Fuck, dude. Hang on, I’ll grab him out of the shower.”

“No, that’s not…” Brad’s talking to a dead line though. He closes his eyes and leans his head against the wall, wishing he’d waited until he’d gotten a hotel room to make this call. He feels conspicuous and stupid, still in fatigues and carrying his duffel. He can feel the glances of people around him, knows from experience that they’re all uncertain if they should say something or applaud like some fucking patriotic commercial. All Brad wants them to do is leave him the fuck alone, but they haven’t issued Logan airport fatigues, so he can’t blend in. Couldn’t even if he wasn’t over six feet.

“Brad?” Nate’s voice sounds rushed and pleased and a host of other things Brad doesn’t listen too closely to. 

“Hey.” Brad clears his throat and forces his eyes open, staring at the payphone, reading the Spanish translations to keep part of his brain distracted. “So I’m in town for a few days.”

A few days is code for between missions, between postings. He’s not sure when he’ll get another phone call, not sure if it will be coded or straightforward. Deployed or ‘training’. Nate’s breath catches and then stutters out, like he’s surprised, but Brad can’t read if it’s a good thing or a bad thing.

“Thought I’d stop by and say hello.” Nate’s not the only game in town. Brad knows plenty of folks on the east coast, any of whom would be happy to put him up for a day or two. There’s also enough to do in the area that Brad’s not likely to be bored. “If that’s cool.”

“Cool.” Nate clears his throat and then laughs, open and honest and Brad has to close his eyes again to see that clear, sharp picture he has of Nate’s smile, the one he keeps buried deep so he doesn’t get lost in it too much, doesn’t lose himself completely. “You want to know if it’s cool.”

“Yeah?”

“You stupid fuck,” Nate laughs again, and suddenly Brad doesn’t give a fuck who answered the phone, he just wants to feel that laughter on his skin, let Nate’s hands and mouth and body wash away the dirt and dust and exhaustion, blast it away with understanding and honesty and emotion. “I’ll meet you in the usual spot.”

“Yeah.” Brad doesn’t want to ask, but the words come unbidden. “Who answered the phone?”

“Oh.” Brad doesn’t hear guilt or anything else in Nate’s voice that he might be able to pick apart in the time it takes Nate to get to the airport. “That’s Dan.”

“Dan.”

“Yeah. My roommate.”

“Roommate?” It’s not accusatory so much as amused. “You have a roommate?”

“Hey, if you thought a Captain made a pittance when he was in the service, imagine how much I get now. Besides, the Marines broke me of the habit of wanting to sleep in something called a grave, so a roommate means I have a bigger place.”

“Does your roommate have earplugs?”

Nate laughs again, and Brad’s pretty sure anything in the world is worth hearing that again, so easy, so often. “I’ll stop at the store and pick some up for him.”

“Don’t,” Brad tells him. His own voice is gruff, thick with the want he can’t keep back any longer. “I don’t want to waste the time.”


End file.
